Tale of Elrond and Celebrian, A: 14. Wisdom in Hindsight

Reader Toolbox Log in for more tools

14. Wisdom in Hindsight

I dedicate this to my darling beta, who
reads when I ask her to, and finishes almost as quickly <grin>

[…] and the heirs of Valandil removed and dwelt at
Fornost on the high North Downs, and that now too is desolate. Men call it
Deadmen's Dike, and they fear to tread there. For the folk of Arnor dwindled,
and their foes devoured them, and their lordship passed, leaving only green
mounds in the grassy hills.

Lord of the Rings, Fellowship of the
Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien

*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^

Chapter 14 Wisdom in Hindsight

*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^

'I do not think it is wise for you to
go.'

Had it come from anyone else, Elrond
might have turned and left, but this meant more to him than anything.

'Why not?'

'You have a family, a people, a task that
goes beyond Fornost, to take care of… This is the blessing of being a ruler.
You can send others.'

Elrond pressed his lips together and
tried to give the other Elf a piercing look. It somewhat failed. He didn't let
it bother him.

'I sense somehow, Elladan and Elrohir are
involved in this… That you promised the sons they could come if the father
didn't.'

Glorfindel nodded, not hiding anything.

'You were the same age when Gil-galad
sent you to Eregion.'

Elrond succeeded admirably in relaying
his piercing look this time.

'And what good did that do us?' He said,
shaking his head, a warning in his eyes.

Glorfindel did not fear it, he had known
Elrond long enough.

'Eregion was lost even before you took to
the road. Gil-galad knew that, and I think you did too.'

Elrond turned away and took a deep
breath.

'I was younger.'

Glorfindel smiled.

'I thought it wiser to let you bring that
detail up yourself. But you were no child then, and your sons are not now.'

Elrond slightly tilted his head. His
voice was thin but sharp.

'I am well aware they are not children
anymore.' Very well aware…

Glorfindel shrugged.

'They wish to go, Elrond. They hear about
all your heroic tales but are not allowed to have their own.'

Elrond turned back to Glorfindel and
attempted a faint smile.

'You have Elladan and Elrohir waiting, I
expect?'

Glorfindel grinned.

'They wished to wait for your answer,
yes.'

Elrond nodded, pausing for a moment.

'Very well, but you shall be
partly responsible for them.'

Glorfindel nodded shortly, a smile
broadening on his face.

'If we are to meet Eärnur and assemble
with Círdan at the assigned place, we shall have to ride within three days.'

'You will have enough volunteers, leave
as soon as you are ready.' Elrond replied, turning towards the windows. 'And
send in my sons, on your way out.' As Glorfindel was halfway through the room
Elrond called him back.

'Do not tell them yet.'

Glorfindel smiled and nodded.

Elrond went over the scenario once more,
as he had done so often already.

Little over two years ago, Arvedui,
fifteenth King of the Arthedain, had asked for help against the advancing
Witch-king, but the fleet from Gondor had not been in time. Arvedui had
directed his sons to Lindon, remaining on the North Downs until the very last.
Círdan had sent a ship to Forochel to rescue Arvedui, who had sought refuge in
the mines of Ered Luin, but when he and his men had boarded the ship, it had
been trapped in the ice. All had drowned.

Eärnur, son of Earnil, King of Gondor had
now come to avenge the loss of the Arthedain and Arvedui; his kinsmen of many
generations removed.

And had requested the help of Imladris.

Careful not to turn until he heard the
sound of footsteps stop, Elrond was confronted with not only his sons. Arwen
stood beside them, no doubt present to help influence him.

He knew Celebrían would not aid them on
this front; she would have rather kept them at home altogether. So, the next in
line who held some influence over him was indeed their sister. He smiled. Such
cleverness…

'And what gives me the honour of all my
children visiting at once?'

Elrond observed a glance from Elladan to
Elrohir. Probably something along the lines of: Did Glorfindel not discuss it?

Arwen in turn observed her father's
smile, seeing through it, and came towards him.

'You shouldn't tease them so, ada.'

Elrond ironed his face, running his
fingers over one of the books on the table.

'Who said I was teasing them? I do not
believe there is anything that needs to be discussed.'

Elrohir bowed his head and Elladan
observed his father closely.

'Glorfindel did discuss Fornost with you,
didn't he, father?'

Elrond nodded, sitting down on one of the
chairs which stood around the table.

'We discussed it, a force will leave from
Imladris within three days, to meet Eärnur's host.'

Arwen rested her hand on her father's
arm.

'You are not going yourself, are you,
father?'

Elrond raised his eyebrows.

'Would it not be appropriate? After all,
I am the Lord of Imladris.'

Arwen mimicked his facial expression, but
Elrond wasn't certain if it was on purpose.

'Does mother know of this?'

'I was going to discuss it with her
presently. Before you entered.' Elrond replied, folding his hands, sitting
back. 'Was there something you wished to ask me?'

Elladan looked at Elrohir before shaking
his head.

'We thought Glorfindel would have brought
it up.'

Elrond feigned ignorance.

'I do not believe he did.'

Elrohir cleared his throat.

'Do you plan to take Glorfindel with you?'

Elrond nodded, raising his hands to
chin-height, placing his elbows on the armrests.

'I do.'

Elladan straightened his back.

'So, there will be the need for
volunteers to accompany you to Fornost?'

'I believe we have quite some as it is.
More than enough.'

As he spoke the words, their faces showed
a distinct glimmer of disappointment.

Elrond was surprised, since the twins
were usually very direct. How long ago was it that he had learned them how to
ride? Watched them fight their first mock-battle? Sent them on their first long
errantry? And now they stood here, afraid to tell him their minds. Surprising
to say the least…

'But I suppose you have already fitted
your armour?' He added, with a smile, watching Elladan's eyes grow large and
Elrohir almost forgetting to breathe.

Arwen grinned.

'They have.'

Elrond smiled broadly.

'Glorfindel has defended you already, and
I will not forbid your going, as long as you promise me you will not attempt
anything rash.'

Both Elladan and Elrohir positively
shone.

'We promise,' Elrohir smiled in return.
Elladan simply nodded.

Elrond rose from his chair and offered
his arm to Arwen, who took it, her cheeks red with amusement. He looked at his
sons.

'Now, you two get your gear ready, and do
not mention this to your mother until I have discussed it with her.'

'Which is right about now.'

Both Elladan and Elrohir left as quick as
Elvishly possible. Their sister was more brave and stayed, but released her
father's arm. Elrond smiled at Celebrían, motioning Arwen to leave. She gave
him a supportive glance before following her brothers. Celebrían noticed and
sent him a glare.

'Elrond, how could you?'

The Lord of Imladris, even after so many
years, still reasonably new to arguments with his Lady, extended his hand, but
Celebrían did not immediately take it. He lowered his eyes for a moment.

'If I had forbidden it, how long could we
have kept them here? I wish to protect them as much as you do, gwilwileth, but
they are not children anymore… In the end, they would disregard both of us, and
leave without any word of where they were going. At least now we are aware of
their location, and that Glorfindel is with them.'

'You are not going?' She asked, sounding
more vulnerable than she probably intended.

Elrond smiled.

'And leave you unprotected?'

Celebrían fled into his arms and
smothered a sob with his clothing.

Elrond embraced her closely. The last
time they had had an argument was when he had wanted to teach Arwen how to
ride. A long time ago… He had understood her feelings then, and he did now.
Softly he kissed her head and rested his own against it.

'I would not forgive myself if anything
happened to them.' He heard her whisper. Elrond released her and gently caught
her head in his hands.

'Do you believe I would forgive
myself? But they will be fine… And we shall not let them go without the best
Imladris can muster. They will go as Lords. Agreed?'

Celebrían looked up at him, trying to
gather a smile.

'Very well…'

Elrond put his arm around her.

'And now we go and unearth some of my old
equipment, to see if some is still useable.'

Celebrían knew full well, that all of
Elrond's equipment was 'still useable'. Although it was stored away, they were
dutifully oiled and kept, almost as heirlooms, most of it still in the same
chest that had held them so long ago, during the Last Alliance. The room, light
shining in from a small, high window, was dusty, with a sense of… She wasn't
sure. Searching her mind for a moment, she recalled discerning the scent when
Elrond left for Mordor, getting into his riding gear.

'It's the oil for the leather.' Elrond
whispered, letting go of her hand and pointing at the leather armour that had
been hung over a wooden foundation many years ago, still waiting for its owner.
Next to it was its dented metal companion.

Kneeling beside the large chest, Elrond
inhaled the air that came from inside, and frowned.

'The smell of the dust is still here, can
you imagine?'

Celebrían smiled, sitting down beside him
as she collected a leather portfolio, carefully bound up, practically air-tight.
Elrond carefully took it from her and undid the bindings. The paper inside was
fragile after so many years, but Celebrían could easily recognise Elrond's
handwriting. It appeared to be a journal, but not the one which she knew lay in
the library, neatly scribed. That one was a business-like day-to-day account of
the events, unemotional and dry.

'This is my personal journal…' For a
moment he seemed lost in thought, but then handed it back to Celebrían,
returning to the chest. 'You might find quite some expressions of my love for
you in there.'

'Can I read it?' Celebrían asked, already
starting, not waiting.

Elrond meanwhile collected a large, long
object from the bottom.

'Certainly… But first look at this.'

He slowly unfolded the whitish wrappings,
uncovering a sheathed sword. As he partially drew it, Celebrían ran her finger
along the flat of the blade, where writings in Quenya decorated the metal.

'It is beautiful.'

'Gil-galad gave it to me…' He smiled,
re-sheathing it and laying it aside. 'But I speak too much of the dead as it
is…'

Celebrían rested her hand on his thigh.

'I do not mind.'

Elrond looked at her for a moment before
taking up the weapon again.

'He gave it to me when I left for
Eregion. I had my own sword, but this one was different… A father is to bestow
a sword upon his son, a special object… But my father never had the
opportunity…' Silently he turned it in his hands, the metal reflecting the
light at every rotation.

Two swords rested on the table of
Elrond's study, together with two bows, and several other objects neatly
arranged in twos, waiting.

Elrond led in Elladan and Elrohir, who
were already clad in their blue and silver garments. Elrond smiled, taking up
his old sword.

'I did not wish to favour one of you
above the other… And so I have tried to decide according to that which either
of you excels in…' He offered the sword to Elladan. 'I received this from
Ereinion Gil-galad… And now I pass it on to you… Hoping it may aid you in
achieving victory in battle.'

Elladan accepted the elvish sword, which
lay almost weightless in his hand.

'Thank you, father…'

Elrond had already taken the bow, a
beautifully crafted specimen, made in the glory-days of Lindon.

'And for you, Elrohir, may it be as swift
and accurate as it was when it helped establish Imladris.'

Elrohir's eyes glittered, as he took the
light, but solid bow from his father.

'I didn't even know you still kept
these…' He looked up at Elrond. 'Thank you…'

Elrond nodded, beaming, as he took up the
other bow for Elladan, the second sword for Elrohir.

Presenting them with the additional
equipment, including daggers and quivers and such, Elrond finally arrived at
the two pendants. 'Your mother gave me an identical one when I left for battle…
She had these made for you.' He fastened each around their individual necks.
Then he stepped back, a proud father watching his sons, no longer boys, tall
and strong, ready to go to battle. He cleared his throat.

'Most of these gifts have been made here,
at Imladris, and no better weapons have ever come forth from the hands of the
blacksmiths here… For only the best is good enough for the Lords of Imladris…'

Two pairs of identical eyes rested on
him, growing large, before they both leaped towards their father. Receiving
both his sons in his arms at once, Elrond pulled them as close as possible,
fully realizing he had to let them go in a moment.

But this instant, they were, once more,
the elf-children that he had collected from trees when they had climbed too
high. Those who he had plucked out of riverbeds by the backs of their tunics.

Releasing them, he smiled, placing a hand
on each of their shoulders.

'Come, you must go now.'

Walking down, the three of them, they met
the others at the stables. Celebrían spoke with both of her sons privately for
a moment, and watched them say goodbye to Arwen, meanwhile returning to
Elrond's side. Galadriel and Celeborn exchanged some words with their grandsons
as Glorfindel arrived, last. Elrond embraced him shortly, before catching his
arms.

'Take care of yourself, meldir.' His
voice lowered to a whisper as he released him and took Celebrían's hand. 'And
take care of our boys…'

Glorfindel nodded, solemnly. He was the
last to mount before they all rode off.

Celebrían might not have the patience to
embroider, but braiding her husband's hair was different. She could do it all
day.

Elrond sat on their bed, his back towards
her, his eyes closed.

Both seemed as if they were caught in
this moment, the sensation only enlarged by the warm rays of the sun, shining
through the large window of their bedroom.

Celebrían had finished a while ago, but
had not indicated it to Elrond, enjoying his presence too much.

Elladan and Elrohir had arrived back the
evening before, after being absent for almost a year, together with Glorfindel,
Círdan, Eärnur and Aranarth, son of Arvedui. A little bruised and tired, their
faces had been shining with pride.

After Aranarth, who chose to seek refuge
in Imladris, abandoning the title of 'king', had presented the heirlooms of
Arnor, officially giving them into Elrond's keeping, the celebrations had
commenced. And the endless storytelling. Elrohir had been lyrical.

They had met the Witch-king's army not at
Fornost itself, but on the plains to the west, towards Lake Evendim. Together
with the aid of a remnant of the people of Arnor, they had utterly overthrown
the Witch-king, eradicated his army, shattering the power of Angmar.

The Witch-king, Lord of the Nazgûl, had
fled into the falling night. Celebrían considered the most ominous part of the
story, Glorfindel's prophesy; that the Witch-king would not fall by the hand of
a man.

With a deep, content sigh she kissed
Elrond's shoulder, resting her head against it, her arms around his waist.

'I am glad they are safe and sound.'

Elrond, fully conscious that Celebrían
had finished with his hair much earlier, turned around and smiled, guiding her
back into the pillows. Her arms were around his neck now, as his lips flew over
her collarbone, and every other uncovered part of skin he could detect. Then he
looked at her, slowly coming towards her face, until his lips were only inches
away from hers. With a smile, Celebrían moved to meet him, but he pulled back,
just out of reach.

'Not fair, Master Elrond.' She pouted.
Elrond tried to shift his weight, but with a quick movement, Celebrían took
advantage of the weak spot in his defence, ending up with a leg on each side of
him.

With a broad grin, Elrond, now on his
back, looked up at her, silver hair spilling over her shoulders. Then he raised
his hands up to her face, which moved so her lips would meet the palm of his
hand, her fingers on his chest, following the muscles underneath the thin
tunic. One of Elrond's hands slipped down to her waist, following the curves of
the body he knew as he did his own. Holding her hair back, his eyes grew darker
than ever, passion burning behind them.

'Lenited-nîn o menel…*'

'Do you think flattery will get you
anywhere?' Celebrían returned with a grin.

Elrond grinned broader, using one hand to
sit up, the other behind her back, keeping her close.

'It usually does…'

The disaster in Moria had had something
to do with it, Celebrían mused, even though the main reason for her parents
return to Lórien had been the sorrow that had hung over the Golden Wood, after
the tragic drowning of Amroth.

'Be careful,' she had warned them,
watching them mount.

The proximity of Dol Guldur had scared
her then, but not nearly as much as it did now.

Years later, fearing it was soon becoming
a stronghold of Sauron's power, Mithrandir had travelled there, and the Shadow
had retreated, hiding in the east.

Elrond had called it the Watchful Peace,
those years that followed, and Celebrían could do nothing but agree. It had
been watchful, and peaceful.

But now it had ended.

On the higher terrace, her husband, her
parents, Círdan, Mithrandir and Curunír, together with Glorfindel and Erestor,
and some other of the Eldarin Lords, were discussing exactly that.

Elrond had invited her to join them, but
she had declined. If there was anything important, she would rather learn it
from him personally. He had been the first to inform her of the Enemy's return,
with increased strength, to Dol Guldur. It had been her mother that called the
council. Now called the White Council apparently.

Arwen wrapped her arm around Celebrían,
supplying the comfort she needed to shed her worries. Elladan and Elrohir were
probably sitting upstairs, in case Elrond needed them.

'Will father go, if it is true what they
are saying?'

The question compelled Celebrían to
suspend her thoughts. She smiled at Arwen, folding her daughter's hand into her
own.

'I think not, pen-nîn tithen*.'

'He will send Elladan and Elrohir?'

'Most likely.'

Celebrían watched her daughter, if
possible, more like her father than her brothers, his eyes, his face, all so
obviously represented. She had inherited much of his ways as well. Elrond's
patience had already been present in the girl when she was young, while it had
surfaced in Elladan much later. And Elrohir… Well, he unquestionably showed
more of Celebrían's own eagerness, but patience was growing within him as well.

Above them, the Council continued.

~*~*~*~

The sun had long gone, and the stars
were, one by one, appearing in the night sky. Elrond watched Mithrandir, noting
the worried look in the Istar's face.

'Do you wish to call a Council?'

The wizard shook his head.

'It took three years to call it last
time… And we cannot undo what has transpired already. Osgilliath is ruined, its
stone bridge is said to have been broken.'

Elrond sat down at the head of the table,
one hand on the wooden surface, the other on an armrest.

'They issued from Imlad Morgul*?'

Mithrandir nodded.

'The walls of the Tower of Sorcery shine
with a pale frightening light.'

Elrond sat silent for a moment.

'You have heard of Hadhodrond*?'

'If you mean the Dark Lord of Mordor
peopling the mines with his creatures, yes, I have indeed received that
information.' Mithrandir replied, sitting forward.

Elrond sighed almost unnoticeably.

'It seems as if the Power of the Black
Land wishes to bar all passes into Eriador…'

Mithrandir did not answer, cogitating,
his mind no doubt travelling the same path as that of the Lord of Imladris.
After a long silence he shook his head.

'But I do not wish to keep you from your
celebrations this evening. We can discuss this in the days to come.' Rising
from the chair, he looked down at the Elven Lord.

Elrond smiled.

'It seems strange to celebrate a
departure, and yet we always do.'

Elrond woke by kisses being trailed over
the bare skin of his back. When he turned, Celebrían's smile was entrancing.

'Êl-rond-nîn…*, are you certain you do
not wish to accompany me?'

'I wish to come…' Elrond replied
sleepily, before her lips found his in a short but passionate merging.
Celebrían drew back a little and waited for the remaining part of his answer.
He sighed. 'But I cannot now…'

She made to move away, but he caught her
arm, swiftly proving very much awake. He smiled seductively, his voice ever so
enticing. 'Do not leave my bed, Lady, and defer your leave-taking a while yet…'
Gently he pulled her back and no sooner began to press his lips against her
neck.

'If I did that, I would never depart, my
dearest.' Celebrían refuted, unconvincingly trying to release herself from his
grasp.

'What is one more day, my Lady, in our
lifetime?' He asked her huskily, guiding her onto her back, kissing, his tongue
tickling, making her shiver.

'Dearest husband, it is one day earlier I
return to your arms.' She replied, shutting her eyes, allowing herself to be
swayed little by little.

'Am I not your Lord and Master… Is not
your pleasure in giving me mine?' Elrond queried in between caresses.

Celebrían laughed as she pulled him
closer, her hands tracing his back, reading the enjoyment in his eyes.

'Is it not your duty to give your Lady
all she desires?'

'It is… And I shall…' He grinned, pinning
her underneath him. 'If she wishes it.'

Elrond's impromptu movement made
Celebrían hiss with
a rapid inhalation, and she stretched her arms, his lips once more meeting her
unprotected neckline. 'Do you?'

With a
soft groan she embraced him and buried her hands in his hair.

'I
wish it, Elrond… I do…'

His
hands slipped under her shoulders, his fingers just able to reach her
cheekbone, softly stroking it as he kissed her again.

Both
knew that subsequently, she would go and he would stay. But at that moment it
did not matter, very little mattered.

Imlad Morgul: Sindarin for 'valley of
black magic', Minas Morgul was located at the end of the valley.

Hadhodrond: Sindarin for Khazad-dûm,
although 'Moria' was the more usual Elvish name (flaunting a find, sorry)

êl-rond-nîn…: 'My star-dome…' (literally:
sparkling star-dome-my) (star-dome is one of the translations of 'Elrond', the
other is 'elf of the cave', Mr Tolkien never made up his mind about which one
he wanted to use; 'rond' means both 'vaulted or arched roof', and 'cave')

*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^*~^

How many of you hate me now? ;-)

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Talk to Nemis

If you are a HASA member, you must login to submit a comment.

We're sorry. Only HASA members may post comments. If you would like to speak with the author, please use the "Email Author" button in the Reader Toolbox. If you would like to join HASA, click here. Membership is free.